Display
by sterlingwriter
Summary: After observing the Vice President playing the same mind game with Midgar citizens all day, Reno decides to suggest an alternate activity.


**Display  
****by Sterlingwriter**

_For Iggy_

* * *

Rufus really didn't need the Turks to protect him. Well, not from mundane threats. Having had Turk training since the age of five, Rufus was practically a Turk himself, but his training was a taboo subject. Those who knew his mettle ignored the facts and played along appropriately, which allowed Rufus to play whatever game struck his fancy.

Mostly, escorting him in public was a display of money and power. Rufus liked being mysteriously entrenched in his entourage, and was rarely ever seen with less than two accompanying attractive and capable looking bodyguards. People were always watching, and trying not to be caught doing so.

Rufus excelled at making eye contact with the curious, and every time he made sure to give them his practiced accusatory stare, often laced with coy disdain: the one that said, "Caught you looking, didn't I? I _dare_ you to keep staring."

"Don't you ever get tired of playing with people?" Reno said, his hand idly reaching inside his coat pocket for a cigarette. "I mean, doesn't it get boring? They all do the same thing: avert their eyes, put their head down, and run away."

"I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand," Rufus said, his tone condescending.

Reno was not discouraged. "I mean, hell, I can only eat tacos so many times a week before I start craving a hamburger…"

Rude cleared his throat. Rufus was fairly certain that the noise the bald Turk made was a stifled laugh, but he didn't bother to confirm his suspicions.

"That's enough," Rufus said, raising a hand in an effort to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Point taken. What would you suggest as an alternative?"

"Well, for one, I'm starving," Reno said.

"That's nothing new," Rude said.

"Well, if we must do something painfully repetitive, I suppose eating would at least be a little more socially acceptable than playing with the delicate mental balance of the citizens of Midgar." Rufus's tone was sarcastic, but he was relenting.

"You gonna buy?"

"Depends on the place," Rufus said. If Reno decided on something mundane like tacos or hamburgers, the Turk would be paying for his own lunch. But if he came up with something more interesting, that was a different story. "I'm open for suggestions."

Reno lit his cigarette and squinted unconsciously as the smoke drifted upwards, stinging his eyes. His gaze was centered on Rufus, and he appeared to be calculating his response carefully. Rufus was all too eager to hear the Turk's idea, but deliberately continued to look bored and not too awfully expectant.

"There's this place on 21st street. They got a nice display window in the floor that gives sector two a great view of the people eating there. It's an expensive place, so of course everybody and their mother wishes they could eat there. I figure we could sit in a nice prominent spot where everybody can see you real well. Imagine the crowd gathering below, fighting each other for just one little glimpse of the soles of your shoes, in the hopes that they might get a small taste of what life might be like for the President's son."

Rufus's jaw clenched at the mention of his father, but what Reno had suggested did appeal to him. It's not that he enjoyed torturing people, exactly, but he did have a certain fascination with observing the way people ended up torturing themselves, if given the opportunity. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he should pay for Reno's lunch, or strangle him mercilessly, but he quickly decided that the latter wouldn't be the best course of action. Reno certainly kept his life interesting, after all.

"What's it called?"

"_On Display_," Reno said, holding his cigarette in between his lips while he talked.

"Sounds delightful," Rufus said, smiling in a deceptively pleasant manner. "I'll pay, as long as you put that obnoxious thing out." Rufus gestured toward Reno's cigarette, as he adjusted his pristine white coat, and began to walk to the car. He planned to take the train; he had a private Shinra car all to himself there. As much as it pained him, if he was going to spend the day acting like the President's _son_, he might as well spend as much of the President's _money_ as he could.

He heard Reno crushing the cigarette on the ground behind him, but didn't bother to look. He knew the Turk was smiling smugly, and probably thinking he'd won some sort of competition, or passed some kind of test; Rufus decided he would allow him that much. Especially since Reno wasn't yet aware of what other little game the so-called "President's son" wanted to play during their lunch.

Rufus smiled like a shark, anticipating how much more interesting the day was going to become…


End file.
